


Some Like It Hot

by MegaBadBunny



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Ficandchips, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Mutual Masturbation, Pete's World, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15082253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaBadBunny/pseuds/MegaBadBunny
Summary: Rose wears a spicy dress; the Doctor notices.





	1. Chapter 1

The Doctor promptly choked on his curry.

“You’re not going out in—in  _that_ , are you?” he spluttered.

Rose glanced down the length of her body, shrugging. “Why? Something wrong with it?”

The Doctor’s eyes traveled over the expanse of Rose’s body, and there seemed to be a suspicious correlation between the distance his gaze traveled and the sudden (and completely unasked-for, ta) raise in his body temperature. Rose’s dress, simply put, was so skimpy that it would have been banned in at least four systems the Doctor knew of. And that was just off the top of his head—he was certain there were more, but the rest of his brain was distracted from further recollection by the dress’s almost hilariously low neckline and even shorter hemline, how the slick metallic material of the dress reflected the light in flashy reds and sultry blacks, the way the dress lovingly clung to Rose’s curves, just how his hands longed to do. Upon the realization that the lack of lines present beneath the skin of the dress meant there was positively no way Rose was wearing any sort of substantial underthings—if, indeed, any underthings at all—the Doctor was fairly certain his cheeks and ears were glowing just as red and hot as the peppers in his takeaway, for reasons that had nothing to do with the levels of capsaicin present.

“No,” he said carefully, then proceeded to blurt out, “but it does put one in mind of a high-end escort.”

“Really?” Rose asked, disappointed. Cursing himself, the Doctor opened his mouth for a bit of backpedaling, but before he could speak, Rose continued, “That’s a bummer, I was sort of going for  _cheap escort_.”

“Let me just state for the record that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with looking like an escort from any price range,” the Doctor quickly replied. “I was only expressing surprise because it’s a bit more Posh Spice than your usual wardrobe choices.”

Rose’s eyelashes fluttered in faux-innocence. “How do you know I didn’t dress like this every day we were apart?”

“Fairly certain I would have sensed a dress that tight even a universe away.”

Laughing brightly, her grin wide and luminous enough to light up an entire household, Rose turned to the mirror over the kitchen sink, giving herself one last look-over. The Doctor resolutely did not ogle her bum as she bent over for a closer look—well, he tried not to ogle—well, tried to try—well, she was making it sort of difficult, wasn’t she, with that hemline offering tantalizing glances of her uppermost thighs every time she so much as moved her arms or breathed—and resolved instead to catalogue her hair (piled high and messy) and her shoes (strappy little things, hopefully she wouldn’t twist an ankle in them) and the straps dancing zig-zig across her back. Because oh, this dress was a scrappy-strappy little thing, wasn’t it, leaving most of her back delightfully bare.

God, the Doctor longed to pop those straps loose.

He caught Rose’s gaze in the mirror, where her reflection smirked at him over her shoulder. Too late, the Doctor looked away, mentally chiding himself. Rose knew  _very_  well what she was doing to him, the little minx, and he was all-too-aware how very easy he made it for her.  _Damn_  this too-responsive new human body and its stupid fluctuating temperatures and sweating palms.

“You know, it would be super easy to round up a costume for you, too,” Rose said, blotting at her excess lipgloss with a napkin. “Just slap on a turtleneck and baggy trousers.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” the Doctor replied pleasantly.

“Ooh, and something acid-wash!”

“I’d rather die.”

“And just a smidge of extra hair gel.”

“Nope,” said the Doctor, cheerfully popping the  _p_. “No parties, no fancy-dress, and absolutely no more hair product than is strictly necessary, not for this bloke. I am staying here tonight, in this cottage, in this century.”

“Boo, that’s no fun. Since when do you like to stay still?”

“Since the only other option apparently involves a world of ill-fitting clothes and frosted tips.”

Rose turned back around to face him. “And you’re just gonna let me navigate those dangerous waters alone, then?”

Before the Doctor had a proper chance to answer, too distracted by the bare expanse of smooth, well-toned legs (how could they be so close to his itching fingertips and so agonizingly far away all at the same time?), Rose chuckled under her breath, sauntering her way over to him. Bending down oh-so-slowly until her face was level with his, her lips almost close enough to touch, she purred, “Certain there’s nothing I can say or do to persuade you otherwise?”

Oh, she was so close,  _so very close_ , he could count her eyelashes and name the chemical components of her lipgloss, taste the cinnamon-sweetness carried from her soft exhales and lose himself in breathing her in. He could and he wanted to.  _God_ , did he want to. This was all still quite new for them, but the Doctor still knew—knew  _intimately_ —just how good it would feel to cup her chin in his hand and press his lips against hers, haul her bodily against him and nestle her snugly in his lap, the warmth of her burning his skin worse than any curry ever could. His heart pounded and pulse quickened and fingers tightened at the very thought of it.

(But then the game would be over so soon, wouldn’t it? Too soon. And he wasn’t finished playing. Not quite yet.

He was actually going to win one of these days,  _dammit_.)

“I’ll see you later,” he said softly. When Rose’s lips turned downward, uncertainty in her eyes—had she done something wrong?—the Doctor smiled in reassurance, offering a wink.

Rose’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “All right,” she said, grinning that tongue-touched grin of hers. She leaned in closer, ostensibly to press a quick kiss to his lips, only to deviate from her course at the last possible second, her lips near his ear instead.

“Later, then,” she whispered with a heat that made the Doctor shudder.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her lips parting in surprise, Rose’s heart skipped a few beats and suddenly her mouth was dry, her cheeks warming worse than they ever had with the alcohol. Since when did the Doctor talk like that?

Its ringtone could barely be heard over the beat thundering throughout the pub, but Rose’s ears caught it anyway. Downing her shot—a hot-ginger thing, the liquor burned her throat and sang through her veins and left her feeling pleasantly warm all over—Rose answered her mobile with a grin. “Missed me already?” she asked cheekily, shouting over the music.

“Always,” was the Doctor’s reply.

“You gonna join me here, then?”

“Something like that. But I was sort of hoping we could talk a little first.”

“About what?” Rose called.

“About all the things I’d like to do to you in that dress.”

Her lips parting in surprise, Rose’s heart skipped a few beats and suddenly her mouth was dry, her cheeks warming worse than they ever had with the alcohol. Since when did the Doctor talk like that?

 “Oh yeah?” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as high-pitched and squeaky as it felt.

“Oh, yes,” chuckled the Doctor’s voice on the other end. “Starting with those straps across the back.”

“What about them?”

“Well, they don’t exactly cover much, do they? It would be all-too-easy for one of my hands to accidentally slip underneath, touching all that delicious bare skin, fingers dancing along your spine, lower and lower.”

Glancing at her fellow partygoers to make certain none of them was paying attention (they weren’t), Rose tightened her grip on her mobile and fought to keep her voice casual. “And then?”

“And then I would be in a prime position to test my theory, of course.”

“Of course,” Rose laughed. “Being?”

“You’re barely wearing anything under that dress.”

Rose’s grip on her mobile was now so tight it was a wonder the poor thing didn’t burst. “You’re not wrong.”

“I didn’t think so. Now tell me, would the knickers come off or stay on while I fucked you?”

The blood rushed from Rose’s head so quickly it left her lightheaded. _Dear god, did he know what he was doing to her?_

“Off,” she breathed. “Or wait, no—”

She thought of how she would dampen the fabric between her legs, how it would feel for the Doctor to stroke her through the increasingly damp silk, how he would tease her. She licked her lips.

“On,” she said decisively, and tried not to blush.

The Doctor’s responding chuckle was low and deep, sending sparks of warmth flickering low in Rose’s belly. “Good. I’d like you to continue the rest of this conversation in private.”

Biting her lip, Rose glanced around at her friends again, all of them laughing and chatting and cheering each other on for another round of shots. For the moment, she was invisible, but she knew it wouldn’t last long; any second now, someone would notice her and pull her back in. As well they should—they were all good friends and none of them liked to see anyone excluded. It was just one of the many things that made Rose so terribly fond of this group. She desperately wanted to follow up on what the Doctor was hinting at (what she thought he was hinting at, anyway, and if it turned out to be some silly prank, then she’d slap him back into a prior regeneration), but it seemed sort of rude to up and disappear on her good friends just because her boyfriend called. She wasn’t that sort of person, Doctor or no Doctor.

“Actually, can it wait? I’m sort of doing things with friends right now,” Rose said pointedly.

“And you’ll be doing things with them again soon,” the Doctor promised. “Don’t worry; this won’t take long at all.”

Laughing breathlessly, Rose signaled to one of her friends that she was stepping out before she left the crowd. “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“Oh, I am,” was his reply, and even over the phone, the sound of his smug grin was nearly unbearable. God _damn_ that stupid sexy grin of his. “Now, tell me when you’re alone.”

Of course, the loos were full, but the back alley was blessedly empty and blissfully dark. Rose’s legs trembled with anticipation.

“Just me, now,” she told the Doctor.

“Excellent. Touch yourself.”

Shock flooded Rose’s head as hot slickness pooled between her thighs. Even if he was human now, the idea that the Doctor would ever think any of this—the fact that he was saying it, out loud, to her—left her ridiculously wet and wanting. “Seems like you’d know by now I’m not the type to take orders,” Rose replied, even as her free hand wandered over her dress, across her stomach.

“Fair enough. Touch yourself, _please_.”

After one last look sweeping the area for potential would-be voyeurs, Rose slowly slid her hand down, down, down, to the hemline of her skirt. Sneaking two fingers beneath the hem, she pulled it up, her blood thrilling at the kiss of humid summer air against her upper thighs. Her fingers slipped between her legs to tease her swelling clit beneath the fabric of her knickers.

“Tell me, Rose—are you wet already?” asked the Doctor. “Or should I say, tell me _please_.”

Rose laughed shakily. “Yes.”

“How wet?”

“You want a weather report?” Rose hummed.

“No, I want you to be so wet that I can hear you fucking your fingers.”

Rose bit back the gasp that tried to escape at that. “Isn’t it a little soon for that?”

“Good point. I didn’t get to finish telling you everything I’d like to do to you in that dress.”

Warmth blossomed against her hand and tension started to coil low in Rose’s belly. “Tell me now.”

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” breathed the Doctor, and was she just imagining it, or did she hear the telltale _rip_ of opening trousers on the other end? “The dress would stay on, that’s for certain. There’s so little dress it would barely make a difference if I took it off, anyway.”

“Rude,” Rose laughed.

“But after thoroughly mapping your knickers with my hands—again, what little there is, anyway, I imagine they’re those scrappy little things with a string in your ass—”

“You’re not wrong,” Rose laughed again.

“—I would pull you by those ridiculous little straps until you fell back into me and straddled my thigh, guiding you by the hips and grinding you against my leg until my trousers were soaked through from it.”

This time Rose didn’t bother to bite back a whimper, was rewarded by a low pant on the other end.

“Would you like that, Rose?” the Doctor asked.

“Don’t stop,” Rose gasped by way of reply.

“Oh, I certainly wouldn’t. I’d be too busy kissing the back of your neck, nestling your ass against me and relishing the plump roll of it against my cock.”

A fresh surge of moisture wet Rose’s fingers and it was all she could do to stop from coming right then and there. She’d known he enjoyed sex with her, but his monologue suggested he gave the topic a greater amount of thought than Rose had ever suspected. The notion that he might want her as desperately as she wanted him made her almost painfully aroused.

The Doctor let out a slow exhale. “I would slip my hand between your legs, then, rubbing at you through your knickers. Imagine that exquisite friction, Rose—you riding my leg and my hand, my fingers pushing into you through the satin, circling and teasing your cunt until you were dizzy from it. Then I’d sense it, the moment you were about to come,” he said, his voice surprisingly conversational for all its husky deepness, and Rose swore she could hear the rhythmic _slick-slick-slick_ of something in the background. Picturing his cock sliding wetly in and out of his fist, Rose groaned. “I’d feel it in your shaking legs and hear it in your breath, smell it and taste it too,” the Doctor continued. “There’s a scent on the air, you know, when you’re about to come. Something uniquely you, spiced and sweaty and sweet. Fuck, it’s intoxicating.”

Rose stroked herself faster, her breaths growing thin and ragged as her nipples scraped against the fabric of her dress and her clit throbbed in time with her mounting heartbeat. “What about you, what would I do to you?”

“That’s something we would worry about later,” the Doctor panted, his voice straining. “Right now you should free up your other hand.”

Switching her mobile to speakerphone—with the volume down low just to be safe; the sultry salsa music blasting from inside the pub would likely mask any noises she or the Doctor made, but she had no desire to find out the hard way whether she was wrong—Rose tucked it securely beneath the neckline of her dress.

“Then?” she breathed.

“Then I would bite down on that tender patch of skin behind your ear, the one that makes you squirm. My free hand would cup your breasts, feeling your nipples straining against the flimsy material of your dress.”

“Oh god,” Rose groaned, bringing her free hand up to pinch a nipple that had indeed peaked starkly through the fabric. Leveraging herself with one leg braced against the wall behind her, she pumped her hips and fingers harder, gasping at the tension coiling up tightly inside.

“Finally I’d push your knickers aside and— _fuck_ —you’d be so wet, Rose,” the Doctor panted, and slick sounds of him fucking his fist in the background reached a frenzied crescendo. “So wet I’d feel your swollen clit straightaway, so ready I’d thrust my fingers into you with no resistance.”

Rose pushed her sodden knickers aside and ground down on her fingers with a moan, timing her thrusts to the Doctor’s. Sweat beaded across her forehead and her breasts and she was going to get a nasty friction burn on her back from this brick wall, she just knew it, but she couldn’t stop, not when she was this close, she was _so fucking close_ —

“Come for me, Rose,” the Doctor panted, and Rose knew exactly the expression playing across his face right now, taut and tight and desperate, mouth open and gasping, almost as if he was in terrible pain. “Come for me— _please_ —”

A strained moan emitting from the other end of the line let Rose know the Doctor was coming, and the sloppy sound of her strokes filled the alleyway as the coil snapped inside her, wracking her body with heat and pleasure. Eyes pinched tight, Rose bit down on her lip to muffle the shout that tried to rip from her. Her cunt squeezed and spasmed wetly around her fingers over and over again, fluttering to a still along with her thrusting hand and hips. Slowly, Rose stopped, her ragged breathing now the only thing that could be heard in the alley beneath the music still pulsing inside the pub.

“Fuck,” Rose said feebly, wiping her hand on her thigh, where it left a shiny streak just visible in the lamplight. She laughed as she eased her leg down from the wall only to find that both legs were trembling too hard to walk just yet. “Just… _fuck_.”

“You all right there?” the Doctor asked breathlessly, his own voice rough and threadbare.

Laughing, Rose retrieved the mobile from its resting-place beneath her dress-strap, wobbled down the alleyway back toward the pub. “You do realize that if that’s the sort of treatment I can expect every time I wear this dress, I’m gonna start wearing it all the time?”

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” the Doctor chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”

 

***

 

A few pleasantly hazy moments and a brisk cleanup later, Rose emerged from the loo to find the Doctor calling her again.

“I don’t think I’m up for round two quite yet,” she laughed into the phone.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” replied the Doctor. “I just thought I’d check in, see if your friends noticed your absence, make sure your legs are working properly again, all that.”

“All’s well, thanks. Although…”

Rose hesitated. It felt sort of silly to feel so shy about this, given everything they’d done together—given everything they’d _just_ done together, especially—but for some reason, the impending admission made her heart flutter every bit as desperately as the Doctor’s earlier phone call had.

“It would be better if you were here with me,” Rose admitted quietly.

“But I _am_ here with you,” replied the Doctor’s voice.

Frowning, Rose didn’t have enough time to really process the Doctor’s words before the loo door next to her opened, the Doctor zipping up his trousers as he emerged. Rose’s mouth fell open and the Doctor flashed her a lazy grin that could only be described as _absolutely filthy_.

Oh, god. Was he in the pub loo while they were…?

Rose’s cheeks flushed perhaps more brilliantly than they ever had before.

“Said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” the Doctor asked cheekily as they both hung up their mobiles.

“And you’re gonna stay?” Rose asked, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Perhaps—I seem to recall you saying something about _persuasion_ , earlier?”

Shaking her head, Rose laughed, grabbing the Doctor’s hand so she could guide him back toward their group. “Later,” she said, with a wink thrown over her shoulder.

The Doctor beamed back at her. “Later, then.”

 

 

 


End file.
